


Light of My Life

by wolfwithwoodenteeth



Series: Adonis [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adonis Myth, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Arya as unexpected adoptive mother, Daenerys is a jealous and vengeful Aphrodite, F/M, Jon is an innocent puppy dog who's caught up in this mess, Oh and incest, Orpheus and Eurydice Myth, Rhaegar is an emo mix of Orpheus and Apollo, Sansa has a mirror not unlike Galadriel's, Sansa is the reluctant but magnificent Queen of the Underworld, but since this story is full of Targaryens and this is Greek mythology, did you really need that warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:51:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9614906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwithwoodenteeth/pseuds/wolfwithwoodenteeth
Summary: It all starts when Rhaegar causes a war between gods and mortals by stealing Lyanna, who he claims to be the most beautiful woman in the world. His sister Daenerys, scorned by this apparent insult, fails to inform him when Lyanna goes into labour and she dies giving birth to Jon.Daenerys decides to get something out of this and claims the baby as compensation for the slight, but Rhaegar has other plans... He wants to get Lyanna back from the Underworld, which is ruled by Petyr Baelish. Rhaegar is aware however that for his plan to work, it's Queen Sansa he needs to persuade. And he happens to possess the perfect bargaining tool...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 7 (Flowers) of jonxsansafanfiction's Fifteen Days of Valentine challenge.
> 
> Another multichapter, but I think I'll be able to post the second chapter tonight or tomorrow.

_The Gods have no mercy, that's why they're Gods._

 

"Daenerys!"

Her handmaidens flinch when they hear Rhaegar's voice booming through the hallways, but Daenerys just leans back in the bathtub and sighs, a contented smile on her lips. The door bursts open, but she doesn't open her eyes. She just inhales the scent of the perfumed milky water and purrs: "Brother."

" _Sweet_ sister," Rhaegar greets her and Daenerys' eyes fly open. He appears almost calm, but she can see the tension in his frame and the fire behind his indigo eyes. He spits out the words with as much venom as he can muster: "You did this!"

She tilts her head sideways, pouting. "I know not of what you speak, my dear brother."

He is standing at the edge of the tub now. "I know you do! And I'm aware you had a hand in this!"

Daenerys rises to her feet, taking a step forward and throwing her head back. "Oh poor Rhaegar! If anyone's to blame for Lyanna's death it is you. You know how rarely mortal women survive the birthing bed when the child was fathered by a god."

Rhaegar seems to have shrunk, Daenerys muses. "There are ways to avoid that. If only you had told me, sister. I would have asked Arya to bless her, to give her the strength she needed. Why did you hate Lyanna?"

She doesn't immediately answer, just slides her hands slowly down her glistening golden body, not missing the way her brother's eyes follow her ministrations. She assumes a wounded expression."You hurt me, brother... You claimed her to be the most beautiful woman in the world. How could you possibly say such a thing, when you've seen _me_? How can you believe that, when you've known me, brother?"

Rhaegar has pushed her hands aside to replace them with his own. He cups her breasts and brushes his thumbs over her nipples. Daenerys moans, but her more wicked desires overcome her wantonness. "Besides," she murmurs, "you must not have cared about her very much. I was told you've been frolicking around in King Renly's bed for quite some time now."

He pinches her left nipple harshly and pulls away with a scowl on his face. "What I do in other beds has nothing to do with my feelings for Lyanna!"

She chuckles, but they are both startled by another sound coming from the corner of the room. It's a small whimper and Daenerys cannot avoid her alarmed eyes to flicker in the direction of the hidden cradle, before she can compose herself and plaster another smile on her face.

Rhaegar isn't fooled though. "What was that?" he demands to know. She considers liying to him, but his glare is hard and his jaw is clenched, so she narrows her eyes and growls at him: "He's mine!"

"He's my son! Lyanna's son!"

Daenerys lets out a peal of laughter. "Are you going to raise him yourself, brother? Let bygones be bygones, you'll find another fair maiden to your liking. And I'll forgive you, if you let me keep the babe."

He doesn't answer, he just turns around and storms out of the room. She smirks. Her brother will not refuse her.

***

Sansa closes her eyes as she pours the water her maids have collected from the River Lethe into the mirror. "In order to see, one needs to forget," she chants. When the basin is full, the surface of the water turns solid and Sansa gazes down into it. Her days are dull and dark in her husband's kingdom.  _"Winter is coming,"_ the mortals say and there are no ears to which those words sound more ominous than hers.

Her fate was sealed a long time ago, on the day when Petyr offered her that pomegranate. She supposes her situation is not the worst she could find herself in. At least the King of the Underworld expects his wife to be more than a graceful ornament. She is charged with the responsibility to pass judgement on all the souls who have departed the world above. And Sansa never fails to do her duty.

Most of the time, the verdict is easy. After all, she can see right through these mortals. But sometimes, there are hidden truths, which can utterly change that what seemed obvious. That's why Sansa has the mirror, to help her find these secrets. Today it only shows her Daenerys, with her silvery hair and eyes like amethysts. She's entertaining several young men, all of them blessed with handsome faces and graceful bodies.

It's the sound that catches Sansa's attention though. A babe is wailing. She can't see it, but she knows it's close. Daenerys doesn't even seem to notice. She just closes her eyes as one of her suitors rubs her feet. The child's cries tug at the strings of Sansa's frozen heart.

The image in the mirror changes, revealing Rhaegar's face. Sansa frowns at the sight of Daenerys' brother.  _The babe must be his._ His mother passed through these halls less than a moon ago. Petyr argued her recklessness should be punished, but Sansa took pity on the woman.  _She's barely more than a child herself,_ she mused. Lyanna's story was not unlike her own.

At least she had been in love with Rhaegar, but then again, what could a mortal do against the will of the gods? Sansa decided Lyanna's life and death had been enough punishment for what little crimes she might have committed and allowed her to move on.

She wonders why the mirror is showing her Rhaegar and Daenerys and the babe. The two former are immortal, their lives will never be judged; and children are innocent, they are free to pass without a trial. She sighs. It seems this is all for today. She pulls back and calls in her maids to help her get dressed.

***

To her surprise, Rhaegar is brought before her that day. She stares down at him as he approaches the weirwood throne. "King Petyr, Queen Sansa," he announces, "I have come to plead for the life of my love Lyanna."

She can see the smirk on Petyr's face from the corner of her eye. He answers in a cheerful voice: "Go on then, my lord, present your case!"

Rhaegar doesn't talk, but orders his harp to be brought in and starts singing a song about his wolf maid. He praises her beauty and her spirit. He tries to convince his audience that the world will never see Lyanna's like again. His voice is the sweetest Sansa has ever heard. The words and the melody of his song are so beautiful she is certain that if she were still the maid she once was, she'd be moved to tears.

But she isn't. She is Queen Sansa now and she doesn't believe in love anymore.  _Men only love what's between a woman's legs,_ she scoffs mentally. She regards Rhaegar coolly. Doesn't he know her skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel? Songs can no longer reach her heart, but Sansa knows her courtesies, so she hides her face in her himation. She doesn't need her eyes to see Petyr's knowing look. 

When Rhaegar's song has ended, she reveals her face and takes in his hopeful expression. She sighs. He should know even the gods cannot defy the laws of the Underworld. "My lord," she calls out to him, "I am deeply moved by your tale and your undying passion, but I fear I cannot help you."

He nods wistfully. "I was expecting your answer, My Queen... That is why I have brought you.. something else. A gift you won't be able to refuse."

Sansa's tightens her grip on the armrest to prevent herself from leaning forward. She raises an eyebrow and nods. The crowds part, revealing a golden-haired nymph. In her arms is the babe and this time Sansa cannot control herself. She rises and descends the steps, ignoring Petyr's eyes burning into her back. 

She stretches out her hands to take the babe from the nymph and tucks him against her chest. He's beautiful. There's a tuft of dark brown curls on his little head and his skin is as pale as snow. He balls his small hands into fists and looks her in the eyes. His own are a grey so dark it reminds her of the water she pours into her mirror.  _I will call you Jon Snow._

***

Sansa sighs as she watches Rhaegar and Lyanna ascend the long and winding path out of the underworld. She knows how this will end, she has seen it in the mirror. She already warned Rhaegar though and she's perfectly aware that it will not change the outcome. She turns around, holding Jon up against her shoulder.  _I kept up my end of the deal. You're staying here with me._

She doesn't look back when she hears the scream, but she knows that Rhaegar will. When she arrives in her chambers, she sits down on the bed and pulls up her knees so she can rest Jon against them. He's so quiet, as if he can tell that he was born in such grief. Sansa swears she won't let it affect him. She'll love him and he'll be perfectly fine.

"What are you going to do with your new little pet?"

Petyr has entered the room and is watching her with an amused look in his eyes. "He's not a pet, he's a child."

"Ah," he breathes soflty, coming closer and holding up a finger, "he is indeed. The Underworld is no place for a child."

She doesn't look at him. "Spring is almost here. He won't have to stay for long..."

Petyr chuckles. "And when Winter comes again, what will you do then? You know you cannot keep him."

"I can and I will," she bites at him, but she's startled Jon. She picks him up, clutching him to her chest and rocking him to soothe him. Petyr sighs. "If it's a babe you want, Sansa, let me give you one."

Her nostrils flare.  _Of course, that's why he's come. He saw an opportunity and decided to act._ "I am a goddess and a queen, Petyr, and I will not suffer your unwanted attentions. I did my duty on our wedding night, but that is all you'll ever get from me. You can force me to stay here all Winter, but you can't force me to love you!"

"What about Daenerys?"

"What about her?"

He purses his lips. "I'm not looking forward to her descending on my realm with fire and blood because you took something she wanted."

Sansa shakes her head. "He was never hers. The deal is struck. There is nothing she can do to change that."

***

Spring comes and Sansa leaves the underworld to spend the Summer in her Mother's garden. Catelyn is waiting for her when she arrives and the two women quicken their paces to embrace each other. But when Catelyn lays eyes on the child in her daughter's arms, she comes to an abrupt halt and turns around, leaving a bewildered Sansa alone with Jon.

When evening falls, Catelyn approaches her in the alcove she's retreated to and watches her as she presses kisses to Jon's cheeks and nose. "Is the babe his?" she asks in an icy voice. Sansa looks up: "No. I did not carry him under my heart and I did not bring him into this world, but Jon is mine. Isn't he lovely, Mother?"

Catelyn's expression softens and she leans down to study Jon's little face. "He is. But he'll grow into a man one day and you know I cannot suffer any man to live in my garden. He cannot stay here when you go back to  _him."_

***

Spring changes into Summer and too soon, Summer begins to drift into Autumn. Sansa knows she needs to find a place for Jon to stay during the Winter. Mother won't change her mind. Neither will Petyr. She knows she doesn't have much time left, but she dreads their upcoming separation so fervently, she refuses to think about it. She might just decide not to go back to Petyr. She's discarded the idea before it has had a chance to fully take form in her mind. She doesn't even want to contemplate the consequences.

 _Life is cruel,_ she thinks,  _even to us gods._ This coming Winter will be longer than any other she's spent in the Underworld. She wonders whether Jon will even remember her after being away from her for so long.  _Oh, he must._ _I love him. I'm the only person in the world who loves him._

_***_

The moment has come. Sansa cannot put it off any longer. She holds Jon in her arms, restraining herself from squeezing him too tightly. Every fibre in her being is screaming at her not to let him go. She knows tears are streaming down her face. "Seven hells, Sansa, just give him to me!"

She glances up at Arya, who's only dressed in a chiton and knee-high boots despite the low temperature. Her hands are on her hips and her lips are pushed together into a thin line. "Promise you'll take care of him?"

Arya sighs. "I already did about three-hundred times."

Sansa tries to tear her eyes away from Jon's face. Arya's nymph companions are standing off to the sides, hidden in the shadows of the trees and bushes. A wolf is howling off in the distance. Sansa can hear its wordless message.  _It's time, you have to let go now._

She entrusts Jon into Arya's arms. She smirks. "I suppose they are quite endearing, these little mortals. Too bad they grow up into men."

Sansa smiles through her tears. "Perhaps you could help him become different from all the other men."

"Perhaps."

Sansa reaches up into her crown and plucks out the blue winter roses. They're the only flowers that will grow in the Underworld. She carefully tucks the roses into Jon's swaddling clothes and sings him one last song. "A few things to remember me by, my little wolf pup," she tells him before turning around and walking down into the cave that will lead her back to Petyr and away from her Jon. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took me a little longer than I anticipated, real life and other fics got in the way and I wasn't happy with my first version of the second chapter.
> 
> As I mentioned in the comments on chapter 1, there will be a third chapter, probably about the length of this one. I'd say I could have it posted in the next couple of days, but whenever I do that, I fail miserably, so I'm going to hold off from making any promises.

Sansa blinks as she steps out of the cave, breathing in the scent of Spring. When her eyes have adjusted to the light, she lets them dart around the clearing. For the last few days she's been fearing she'll find herself alone when she leaves the Underworld, but she isn't. Arya is waiting, surrounded by a dozen nymphs. And there, clinging to her left leg, but standing on his own two feet, is Jon.

She clasps a hand over her mouth, her eyes filling with tears.  _He's grown so much!_ His face is a little longer and it is framed by a mop of unruly dark curls. She clenches her teeth at the sight of the leaves and twigs that are stuck in some of the strands. The nymphs have dressed him in a dove grey chiton and he's wearing brown sandals. Sansa crouches down and holds out a hand. "Jon!"

He tilts his head and looks at her with his serious dark eyes. Arya lowers herself to whisper in his ear and he takes a few hesitant steps forward. Sansa smiles at him and unwinds one of the winter roses from her hair, holding it out to him. His legs are still a little wobbly, but his pace is quick. He grabs the rose from her hand and she picks him up, singing to him softly. She grins at the way he pouts as he studies the flower he's holding in his two hands. "Pretty, is it not?"

Jon blinks and looks up at her. The rose is already forgotten. He lifts a chubby hand to touch her face, gently brushing her eyelid and cheek, a little less careful when he pinches her nose and pulls on her bottom lip. Sansa pretends to bite his fingers and he pulls them back, frowning at her. Tentatively he reaches out again, fisting his fingers into a lock of her hair and declares in a clear high voice: "Pwetty."

Sansa tries to blink away her tears as her first true laugh in over six moons bursts from her lips. She buries her nose in his hair to breathe him in, squeezing her eyes shut. That distinct sweet, clean scent of babes is now mixed with wood smells and perhaps still a hint of snow. She presses kisses to his temple as she holds him close.

***

Jon doesn't like the heat of Summer. His little face turns red as he's chasing a butterfly across Catelyn's garden. He plops down into the grass and huffs angrily, glaring up at the blazingly blue sky. Sansa lets him play in one of the many shallow pools after that, which he seems to enjoy a lot. High peals of laughter echo throughout the garden as he splashes his hands in the water.

When she picks him up, his face contorts in anger and his bottom lip starts trembling. "Oh no, Jon Snow, you know better than to try that with me," she chides him. As if heeding her warning, he doesn't cry, but his hands are balled into fists and he glares at her with those dark eyes. Sansa chuckles. "Aren't you hungry, my sweet boy?"

She sips her chilled wine as she watches him eat. In those first days of early Spring, she tried to feed him, but she quickly discovered he wanted to do it all by himself. At first it saddened her, realizing the days he needed her, truly needed her, were long gone. Now she relishes in those moments, studying him as he tears apart pieces of bread, picks up crumbs of goat's cheese and licks honey off his fingers.

Once he popped an olive into his mouth, thinking it was a grape. As soon as he started chewing, his face pulled into a confused frown. His plump lips parted and his tongue pushed out chunks of olive which slid down his chin in a trail of saliva. Sansa finds herself wondering how it is possible for her to be so mesmerized by every simple thing he does after all she has seen in her long life.

She sighs and tries to chase away any thoughts of the coming Winter. Her heart aches when her mind drifts to their next inevitable goodbye. If she were mortal, she's certain she wouldn't survive another separation, but she is not, so she'll have to live with it. She puts down her goblet and gathers Jon in her arms. His hands fist her tresses and she'll probably have cheese and honey in her hair, but she doesn't care.

Jon has had enough of her attention. Sansa pulls back to look at him. He's struggling to be free from her arms, ready to run off for another game, until his eyes find her face. He traces the single tear running down her cheek with his finger and frowns. "Mama?"

She smiles at him. "Mama loves you, Jon," she tells him and she's rewarded with a sticky kiss before he pushes her away to dart back to the pool. His loud burst of laughter fills the garden and Sansa's heart.

***

Their days are much the same. During the cool early hours, Sansa trails after Jon as he explores the garden. He makes new discoveries every day. He runs through fields of poppies and daisies on his unsteady legs the one day, carefully caresses peonies and picks up fallen kumquats the next. By mid-morning, when the sun is rising in the sky and its heat descends on the earth, they retreat to one of the pools, where Jon plays for a couple of hours and they have a light meal.

When the glaring sun has reached its highest point and the air is buzzing with heat, Sansa lays him down under an olive tree or one of the many fruit trees so he can take a nap. She sings to him until he falls asleep. She knows so many songs, she could sing him a new one every day, but she can tell he prefers tales about heroes.

She finds herself repeating the story of Achilles' struggle between his desire for home and his pursuit of honour and glory. His other favourites are Odysseus tricking the cyclops Polyphemus by calling himself No One and Oedipus solving the sphynx' riddle. She's certain he's too young to understand any of it, but she still indulges him.

Sometimes her mother joins her and they talk or sit together silently while Jon sleeps. Sansa knows Catelyn has duties to attend to, but she wonders at her reluctance to spend time with Jon. She still won't allow him to stay here during Sansa's absence. Sansa trusts Arya and her nymphs, but she doubts whether their nomadic existence is ideal for Jon's upbringing. Catelyn's garden is a much safer and steadier environment for him, but her mother will not even discuss the possibility.

***

Sansa has fallen asleep under a lemon tree on the edge of the garden, close to the hills. Jon's head is on her shoulder, her nose buried in his curls, which no longer smell of snow and woods, but of rigani and wildflowers. She awakens slowly, until she tightens her arms instinctively and finds herself grasping nothing but empty air. She veers up with a gasp.

Not only is Jon's warm little body no longer pressed to hers, she cannot even see him as her eyes flicker around the orchard, panic pumping through her body. She's on her feet, trying to decide the best course of action, when she hears a lilting voice drifting around the tree. Her feet carry her there automatically and she finds Daenerys sitting on the other side of it, Jon in her lap.

"So this is where you've been keeping him," she remarks lightly, but Sansa can hear the edge to her voice. She fights against her instinct to lunge forward to scoop Jon up in her arms and run away with him as fast as possible. Instead she forces a pleasant smile to appear on her face and feigns surprised delight. "Daenerys! It's been too long since we last spoke... You look lovely!"

She can see that the compliment pleases her, but she knows it's not enough to soften her resolve. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

She takes an involuntary step forward and she immediately knows it's a mistake when Daenerys' hand tightens around Jon's shoulder, clutching him to her. Sansa can see the discomfort at being held close by a stranger on his face, but he's not crying yet. Her little boy is so brave. "You're a cruel woman, Sansa, separating Aegon from his family like this, not even allowing me to see him."

Sansa clenches her teeth. "His name is Jon. And he's not yours. Rhaegar gave him to me. I'm his mother!"

Daenerys offers her her sweetest smile, the one that has brought thousands of men to their knees. "Are you, Sansa? His mother is dead and his father... Well, I don't suppose he really cares. I'm all he has left. Isn't that right, Aegon?"

She lifts Jon onto his feet, her hands under his arms and he breaks. His wails pierce Sansa's ears and heart and her arms reach out of their own accord. Jon copies her gesture. She can see the flash of anger in Daenerys' amethyst eyes, before she composes herself and tries to hush Jon. "Please, Daenerys, let me hold him, he's upset, can't you see that? He doesn't know you!"

"He's my nephew," she retorts, "he belongs with me!"

They're interrupted by a stern but calm voice. "If that is true, Daenerys, then where have you been for the last eighteen moons?"

Sansa almost sighs in relief when she spots her mother standing a few feet behind her. Her hands are folded in front of her chest and she's regarding Daenerys with a cool look. "Sansa is right," she adds, "and I am not simply saying that because she is my daughter. I am a mother myself, I know these things. You're a stranger to the child. He loves Sansa and thinks of her as his mother. It would be cruel to take him away from her."

"He belongs with his family," Daenerys insists. Catelyn inclines her head. "Indeed he does. But blood and family are not always the same."

Daenerys looks from Sansa to Catelyn and sighs. "So you won't let me take him? Very well, if we can't come to an agreement, we'll have to let someone else decide."

Sansa narrows her eyes. "The last time you allowed a mortal to settle one of your disagreements it resulted in a war that lasted a decade and caused thousands of deaths. The world has barely recovered from your brother's actions. Will you risk yet another war to get what you want, Daenerys?"

Daenerys seems to consider her words for a couple of moments and agrees. "Not a mortal then. We shall leave the judgement to one of the other gods."

Jon is whimpering again and Sansa tries to plead with Daenerys. "Please, let me hold him."

She laughs coldly. "And why should I trust you?"

Catelyn sighs and approaches them. "Give him to me. I promise to return him to you if that is the decision this judge you will choose should make."

Reluctantly Daenerys rises to her feet to let Catelyn take Jon from her arms and turns to Sansa. "I want to resolve this as quickly as possible. Who should be our judge?"

Sansa is relieved to see that Jon has seemed to calm down in her mother's arms. She wrings her hands.. "We can't ask Robert in this case. We all know he wanted Lyanna for himself. It's better if we keep him unaware of Jon's existence."

Daenerys nods in agreement. "Petyr is out of the question as well, since he is your husband. I don't want it to be Stannis."

Sansa almost rolls her eyes at that. She knows Daenerys is opposed to Stannis because he's one of the only men who seems immune to her charms, but she doesn't mind. She's never been fond of him. "Tyrion," she suggests. "Seven hells, no," Daenerys objects, "he'd probably decide to keep Aegon himself to pour him full of wine and then leave him with his maenads."

"You should ask Davos," Catelyn offers. Sansa nods. "Yes, Davos seems like a good choice."

"Then we shall ask Davos," Daenerys agrees. 

***

The three of them are gathered at a crossroads, waiting for Davos to make an appearance. Sansa is standing a few feet away from her mother, who is trying to draw Jon's attention away from Sansa. He doesn't understand why she won't respond to his pleas to take him in her arms. Daenerys is wavering between keeping her distance and hovering. Sansa can see that her patience is wearing thin. "Is this the right place? Are you certain he's coming?"

It's clear she is not used to being kept waiting. Sansa bites her lip. All she wants to do is take Jon in her arms and whisk him away, but she'll wait. She knows Daenerys will never hold off from trying to steal Jon from her if she decides to run off now. If Davos takes her side in this, Daenerys will have no choice but to honour their agreement.  _But what if he doesn't?_  

She can smell a slight hint of the sea and an older man with a beard materializes in front of them from a wisp of green smoke. He inclines his head. "My ladies, I've heard you have need of me?"

Catelyn lifts her chin and smiles at him. "We do," she tells him. Quickly she explains the situation. Davos nods and inclines his head to study Jon's face. "Well, young man," he begins and Jon looks at him curiously, "you are the cause of all this trouble?"

Jon frowns before holding out a hand to tug at Davos' beard. He opens his arms and Jon leans forward to jump into them. Sansa hopes that is a good sign. Davos speaks to him in a low voice. "Not even two years of age and you already have the ladies fighting over you, is that right?"

Jon responds with a grin and an excited cry. "Alright then, my ladies. Let me hear your stories."

Davos listens intently as first Daenerys and then Sansa tell their version of the tale and make their cases. When they've both finished, Davos sighs and looks at Jon. He puts him down and picks up a twig to draw a line in the sand. He coaxes Jon to lie down on the line and instructs Daenerys to take his hands and Sansa to do the same with his feet. "Now," he declares in a solemn voice, "I want you ladies to pull as hard as you can."

Daenerys nods. "What?" Sansa demands. A half-smile pulls up the corner of his mouth. He crosses his hands behind his back. "Do you trust me, my lady?"

She hesitates for a moment, but then bites her lip and nods. "Very well then. Please, proceed."

As soon as they begin pulling, Jon starts crying. Sansa is so startled she lets go immediately, letting out a sharp cry as she watches Jon crash into Daenerys, who steadies herself at the last moment and picks Jon up to whirl him around, an elated laugh escaping from her lips. Jon is so stunned he stops crying almost at once. Davos sighs. "Well, it's been decided."

Sansa can't stop herself, despite her mother's hand on her shoulder. "No!"

Daenerys' nostrils flare. "We promised to follow Davos' judgement!"

The man shakes his head. "I'm afraid you misunderstand my meaning, my ladies. It is clear that Sansa is the one who truly cares about the boy. She was the one who questioned my instructions and who was prepared to let go when she thought holding on was hurting him. My judgement is that Jon should stay with Sansa."

Daenerys stares at him, her mouth hanging open, as Sansa hurries to take Jon from her arms. "You promised," she reminds her in an icy voice. Daenerys hands him over to her, momentarily admitting defeat, but doesn't leave without warning Sansa: "We are not done. I will take what is mine, with fire and blood if necessary."

Sansa ignores her as Jon wraps his arms around her neck, burying her face in his hair and whispering: "Mama's here now, Jon. Don't worry."

***

A few weeks have passed and they've easily fallen back into their old routine. Jon is sleeping under a fig tree, when Catelyn comes to her, carrying a letter. Apart from the tensed way she presses her lips together, her face gives nothing away when she hands it to Sansa. She unrolls the scroll and immediately recognizes the handwriting. It's a message from Petyr. Sansa smoothes it out with trembling hands. He's never written to her before when she's away from the Underworld.

 

_To my dearest Wife and Queen, Sansa_

_I hope you are well. I am delighted that you will be returning to me soon, sweetling, but for now I have the unpleasant task of bringing you some woeful tidings. Recently I've received threats from Daenerys. It's unfortunate she's unwilling to honour your agreement, but I did warn you, my love._

_The other news I have for you is even more regrettable. It seems you two have drawn too much attention with your antics and word of Jon's existence and the circumstances of his birth has reached Robert's ears. Perhaps I'd be able to hold him off from undertaking any reckless actions, convincing him he'd be risking my wrath if he hurt the boy, if I were so inclined. I must say however that I'm not entirely convinced it is in my best interest to do so. I find myself wondering if it would be worth the risk._

_I'm afraid that is not even the worst. Cersei has heard rumours as well, about Robert's interest in Lyanna and the birth of her son, and she's arrived at the wrong conclusions. You know not even I or Robert himself will be able to protect the boy, once she decides to go after him._

_I realize my letter must distress you to an unimaginable extent and I do wish I could be of more assistance to you, but as you must understand very well, I am powerless here._

_I'm looking forward to seeing you again_

_Your devoted Husband and King, Petyr_

 

Sansa sinks to her knees, clutching her head in her hands, pulling at her hair. Catelyn's arms are wrapped around her as she fights back her sobs, holding them in so she doesn't wake and scare Jon. It takes several long minutes before she's able to calm down enough to breathe again. She knows Petyr is telling the truth. If he wanted to lie to her to force her to abandon Jon, he would have done so a long time ago. She wonders what she's done to have deserved such ill luck.  _It's even worse for Jon,_ she thinks,  _he's so innocent and sweet._

She lies down next to him, letting her eyes feast on his wonderful little face, smoothing back some curls from his temple. His lips part and he breathes out a contented sigh. She presses a light kiss to his forehead before turning around and allowing her tears to start flowing. There's only one thing she can do. If she's selfish now, her sweet boy will never be safe. She's aware she's giving Petyr exactly what he wants, but she has no choice. She has to protect Jon, even if it means she'll never see him again.

***

Arya's eyebrows are knit together as she chews her lip. "Are you absolute certain, Sansa?"

Sansa nods, feeling Jon's soft curls brush against her cheek. "Yes, use the ointment as soon as I'm gone. If you do it properly, no one will be able to find him, unless  _you_ tell them about him."

Arya blinks. "And you trust me?"

"I do. You know I can't do it myself. Petyr will always find me," she sighs. Arya still doesn't seem convinced. "But Sansa,  _you_ might never find him again. You won't even be able to see him in the mirror."

She pulls back to look at his sleeping face.  _I'm so sorry, sweet boy. I wish I could make you forget as well, but you're half-mortal. I can't risk it._ "I am aware of that, Arya," she says with a calm that does not correspond to the screaming and bleeding mess she is inside.

Arya nods and stretches out her arms to take Jon from her. "Sansa," she whispers, swallowing and parting her lips a couple of times before continuing. "I- I won't pretend to understand, but last time you said goodbye, you were devastated. And now it's even worse. You know you'll probably never see him again. How will you live with that?"

 _I won't pretend to understand._ She is right, they will probably never understand each other. Quite possibly they wouldn't even be able to stand spending a full day in one another's company. Still they share a deep trust and a bond that cannot be broken. That's why Sansa knows there is no one else she could trust with this task. 

For a moment she contemplates whether she should answer Arya's question. She might change her mind or try to convince Sansa to find another way. She knows she can't allow that to happen. There is no other way, but the slightest doubt could be enough to make her believe there is. She decides to take a risk and be honest. "I won't."

She reaches into the folds of her himation and pulls out a small vial. Arya stares at it, confusion written all over her face. "What is that?"

Sansa takes a deep breath to steady herself. "Water from the river Lethe."

Arya's eyes grow wide as understanding dawns on her. "You're going to make yourself forget him? You're going to take away your own memories?"

She nods, not trusting her own voice. She closes her eyes so she doesn't have to see Arya's expression, but she can still hear her sharp intake of breath. She holds up her hand to stop her from speaking her mind, but she still tries. "I wish-"

"Please don't..."

It's the softest of whispers, but she knows Arya has heard her. She opens her eyes again. Arya's are hard and determined and she's glad for it. She might have broken down if there had been any emotion in them. There are no more words left to say, so Arya turns around and leaves her alone.

Winter is coming, but not for a while yet, so she pulls the stopper from the vial and sets it to her lips. She allows herself to remember the happiest moments of her life one last time, seeing Jon's face behind her closed eyelids.  _It will be as if he never existed,_ she tells herself,  _but_ _at least_ he  _will have a life._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting such a sad chapter on Valentine's Day. I hope you can forgive me...


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